Sweet Lake (Sweet Lake #1)

by Christine Nolfi

  Beneath the third tree, she located a stick small enough to master. Spinning in a circle, she flung it farther down the grass. Puddles raced after, barking.

  “Stay where I can see you,” he shouted. She bobbed her head, and he added, “Throw toward the middle of the grass. Don’t get near the street.”

  Fancy curtsied daintily. Then she laughed as Puddles butted her with the stick. Hiking up her princess gown, she spun again. The stick flew end over end.

  The girl and the dog got into a rhythm, throw, retrieve, throw. Daniel let his thoughts drift.

  He was unaware of his eyelids drifting shut until a horn blared.

  The sound jolted him back to consciousness. He blinked once, twice. Then the moment stilled in a sickening jolt. The stick arced like a lance toward the streaming cars. Puddles galloped forward on autopilot.

  Fancy bolted after him. Her attention fastened on the dog.

  She raced toward certain death.

  In a pump of desperation, Daniel hurtled across the grass. He heard himself bellow in warning. The sound was far off, like a voice shouting from deep inside a cavern. Miraculously Puddles darted past the hood of a Ford pickup. Streaking through the cars in the second lane, the dog reached the sidewalk.

  Fancy was smaller—easier for the driver to miss—and the truck kept going. The bright strands of her hair flew high. Sensing danger, she came to a standstill directly in the truck’s path.

  At full bore, Daniel scooped her up. The exertion threw a sheet of blackness across his eyesight. He sensed he’d made it past the car. His vision clearing, he threw his attention over his shoulder.

  It was a dangerous miscalculation.

  In the second lane, the woman texting on her phone looked up a moment too late.

  Tires squealed. The car met Daniel’s leg with a crack of pain. The impact pulled Fancy from his arms and sent his body into the air. Pain seared him, a tidal wave.

  With horror, he watched the pavement rise up to meet him.

  Chapter 20

  Linnie made the twenty-minute drive to Park Center Hospital in a fugue of disbelief.

  Memories of her father’s stroke punctuated the journey. She recalled the blue-and-red lights strobing across her bedroom walls. The clatter of wheels on the inn’s veranda, and the urgent voices breaking through her dreams. How she’d stumbled to the lobby, where paramedics were strapping her unconscious father onto a gurney and her mother looked on, shaking uncontrollably.

  More often than not, life strung together in an orderly fashion. Then the unthinkable happened. The string of continuity broke.

  Not Daniel. Linnie swerved into a parking space. Not Fancy. She bolted toward the hospital entrance.

  In the busy waiting room, Philip rocked with his head in his hands. Clumps of dirt formed a semicircle around his work boots. He was nearly invisible in the undertow of conversation vibrating around him, the people waiting for loved ones to check in or check out, a florid-cheeked toddler squirming in her mother’s lap, a youth in tennis whites cradling his elbow. A busy Sunday, but most of the injuries appeared little more than inconveniences.

  Linnie called out. He looked up with relief.

  She hugged him and then asked, “How are they?”

  He led her through the aisle of chairs to a corner near the entrance. “Fancy’s doing all right,” he said. “Broken arm, lots of bruises. Bump on the head, which doesn’t look too bad. They’ll keep her overnight for observation, make sure there’s no concussion.”

  “Oh, Philip. I’m so sorry.”

  He waved off the comment. “She’ll be okay. Could’ve been worse. A whole lot worse. Daniel got to her in time.”

  “You mean he caught her before . . . ?”

  “Sure did. Frances said he came out of nowhere. He flew straight into traffic.”

  “Frances was on the circle?”

  “Two cars back, coming from church. She saw everything.” He made an effort to stop his composure from crumbling, and she noticed the tracks wending through the grime on his cheeks. He took a swipe at his eyes. “My big brother, a regular superhero. Fancy rolled out of his arms when the car hit him—she rolled off the hood. A miracle she landed on the curb.”

  “What was she doing in the middle of the street?”

  “Chasing Puddles. Frances got the impression the crazy pooch was playing fetch. She saw something fly across the street.”

  “Where’s Fancy now?”

  “On her way to a room. We can go up soon.”

  “Where’s Puddles?” Daniel adored the mutt. Was the poor dog forgotten in the confusion following the accident? If so, she’d scour the town until she found him.

  Philip put her fears to rest. “Frances hustled the mutt into her car. Called me right after, which is how I found out about the accident. I’ll pick him up later.”

  Dread over the next query chilled her skin. He’d only supplied the barest information on the phone. An accident. Both Daniel and Fancy hurt. In his tone she’d captured the impression Daniel was more badly injured. She was terrified of what she might learn.

  At last she asked, “What about Daniel?” Nausea rolled through her. “How’s he doing?”

  She wasn’t aware the question had loosened her knees until Philip grabbed hold of her waist.

  With ease he helped her outside, his embrace tightening as she went limp.

  “Let’s try some fresh air.” He practically carried her to a bench by the emergency entrance. “Work with me here. Breathe.”

  “I’m okay.” She marveled at the clammy perspiration dotting her arms.

  “Like hell. Take another breath.”

  She did, her lungs aching from the effort. “This is embarrassing. I’m supposed to be the one propping you up.”

  “Like a mouse propping up a giraffe? That’d be a neat trick.” He clasped her shoulder firmly, his eyes canvassing her face. “Still feel like you’re blacking out?”

  “Good question.” Beside the bench, the bed of impatiens wobbled in bands of pink and white. Her vision was spotty at best. “I feel seasick.”

  “Rescue’s coming, sailor. Be right back.”

  Philip trotted off, a reprieve of sorts. She felt silly dropping her head between her legs and sucking in more air. What if she’d grown faint winging down the highway? As if the town needed a second accident on a Sunday. The thought was discarded before it played havoc with her stomach.

  By the time Philip reappeared, her pulse had slowed to within normal limits. She still felt woozy, but her sight was clearing.

  He handed over a can of ginger ale. “Bottoms up.”

  She took a sip, waited until he joined her on the bench. “Tell me about Daniel’s injuries.” He studied his mud-spattered boots with palpable unease, and she added, “I won’t go into a swoon, I swear. Tell me.”

  Assenting, he rattled off the terrible list. “Nasty break to his left femur, some cracked ribs. They’re doing X-rays, making sure his ribs didn’t cause internal damage.” He stopped to gauge her reaction. She lifted her brows, urging him on. “A slight crack to the skull, but no brain swelling—that was the first thing they checked. Lacerations on his face. Some are pretty deep. They were stitching him up when I got here.”

  The list of injuries put bile in her throat. “Can we see him?” she asked, swallowing it down.

  “Once they’re finished in radiology, the doc will let me know.”

  Hopefully they wouldn’t have long to wait. “How fast was the car going?”

  “Not too fast, thank God. Clipped him on the side. Launched him over the hood and onto the sidewalk, past where Fancy landed.” Philip dropped his elbows onto his knees. “He was unconscious when the ambulance arrived.”

  Linnie pressed a hand to her stomach. She forced her thoughts on more pragmatic concerns. “Should I phone Kay? She’ll rearrange Daniel’s schedule. He won’t see clients this week.” In her haste, she hadn’t even told Jada before racing out of the Wayfair.

  “Doubt
it’s necessary. Frances will shout the news from the rooftops. Once all the Sirens hear, the whole town will know in ten minutes flat. We’ll dine on chicken casserole for a month.”

  “At least you won’t have to cook.”

  “I’ve never learned how. Lucky for me and Fancy that my brother picked up the knack.” Philip glanced at her briefly before throwing his attention on the flowerbed. “I didn’t call anyone but you.”

  She’d received the only call? The significance was impossible to miss. Before leaving the inn at daybreak, Daniel hadn’t mentioned babysitting Fancy today. When Philip dropped off his daughter, did the conversation include the topic of a sleepover in the south wing? It would explain why she’d crossed Philip’s mind during the ghastly morning.

  He nudged the ginger ale closer to her lips. “Drink. You’re three shades beyond pale.”

  She did before asking, “How long will Daniel stay in the hospital?”

  “A couple days. If the break to his femur isn’t bad, they’ll splint his leg. They’ll wrap his ribs, but the concussion is a bigger concern. They’ll keep him under observation as a precaution.”

  “If the break to his femur is bad?”

  “I didn’t think to ask.” Philip rubbed his unshaven jaw. “They were throwing so much at me, I was having trouble keeping everything straight.”

  She clenched her eyes shut. Only a few hours ago, she’d nuzzled in Daniel’s arms. They’d spent the better part of the night making love, and the tranquil hours before dawn plotting out the future in bold sketches. What if he’d been killed?

  What if the best portion of her life had begun and ended on the same day?

  Philip read her face with concern. “Cheer up. He’ll come through this in one piece. He’s a tough guy. You don’t have to worry.”

  A terrible thought intruded. “Am I to blame?”

  “Geez, Linnie. You weren’t behind the wheel.”

  She brushed off the comment. “None of this would’ve happened if he’d been alert.” She rubbed her arms in angry strokes. “I kept him up all night. I knew he’d worked a full day, and naturally, Jada sent him to find me in the woods before the party. What’s wrong with me? He didn’t get any sleep. When I woke up around four, he was still awake staring at the ceiling.”

  It dawned on her she was rambling. Cutting off, she cringed. Why dump a confession on Philip, especially one sexual in nature? Like he needed a recap of the best night of her life. His precious daughter was inside Park Center being whisked to a hospital room.

  Searching for an apology, she peeked at his face. Beneath the dried riverbed crossing his cheeks, his expression brimmed with mirth.

  “Linnie,” he said, trying for sobriety but missing the mark, “there’s not a chance in hell my brother is upset because you kept him up all night. He’s a monk. Hell, we both are. If you’ve broken his vow of chastity, let’s tell the Sirens. They’ll throw a party. At the least, they’ll send over a month’s supply of condoms. Just go easy on him until he’s fully healed.”

  Despite her gloom, she smiled. “Will do.”

  They went back inside. At the desk, Philip checked on Fancy’s progress. He motioned her over.

  “We can go up now,” he said. Together they headed to the elevator.

  She asked, “Any news on Daniel?”

  “Not yet.”

  In the semiprivate room, a stocky nurse fussed over Fancy. The second bed was empty.

  The nurse checked the IV, nodded them in. “Look who’s here to see you, Fancy.” She came across the room, paused in the doorway. Lowering her voice, she told Philip, “Don’t stay too long. It’s been an exciting morning. She needs her rest.”

  “Got it.”

  Linnie followed him in. The bed dwarfed the girl neatly tucked beneath the blanket. A neon-pink cast covered Fancy’s right arm. Scrapes and bruises dotted the fragile curve of her jawline.

  She patted the cast. “They let me pick the color,” she told her father.

  “Pretty cool.” He brushed wisps of hair from her brow. “How are you doing? Did the tears go away? You had me worried in the emergency room.”

  “I only have little bits of scared now.”

  “Don’t worry, sweet pea. Pretty soon the cast will come off. You’ll be doing handsprings.”

  She leaned close to her father’s ear. “The lady said I can have ice cream after naptime. Can I have seconds?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “I like the lady. She smells nice.”

  She meant the nurse, and Linnie said, “Should we bring in some of your dolls? I’m sure they miss you.” Fancy prized her collection of baby dolls.

  “Yes, I want my babies! They have bits of scared too.”

  Philip slid Linnie a glance. Why didn’t I think of that?

  To his daughter he said, “I’m allowed to come back after dinner. Which babies should I bring?”

  “Jenny, Janey, and Tulip. Janey’s playing in the closet. She likes my princess dresses.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Will you bring Puddles?” Fancy did her best to ape a stern expression. The attempt only made her more adorable. “He’s sad. Did you give him kisses?”

  “I will when I see him,” Philip promised. “He can’t visit, though. You’ll see him when you come home tomorrow.”

  Oddly, she looked past her father to pose the next question to Linnie. “Is Uncle Daniel scared? He got more boo-boos than me.”

  A dark sickness swept through Linnie. “Uncle Daniel doesn’t mind the boo-boos. He’ll get over them fast.” She dredged up her most reassuring smile. “He’s glad you’re okay.”

  “Will you give him lots of kisses? They’ll make him get better even faster.”

  Warmth brighter than sunlight spiraled through Linnie. “Of course, baby girl. I’ll give him enough kisses to circle the world.”

  The nurse returned, motioned Philip into the corridor. The timbre of their voices, the low urgency and Philip’s short, staccato responses, jiggled the trapdoor Linnie imagined beneath her feet. Warding off the panic before it caught her full throttle, she focused on Fancy, who was regarding her with the instinctual senses of a small child, that cord of self-preservation entwined with the love for special adults.

  Give in to fear, and Fancy would too.

  Linnie rose to the challenge. Opening her purse, she allowed the curious girl to investigate the tubes of lipstick, the stray bottle of nail polish, and the worn photograph hidden in a zippered pocket. The snapshot was taken when Linnie and Jada were seniors at Sweet Lake High and Cat was a sophomore. Returning the photo, Fancy rooted in the bottom of the purse.

  She’d discovered a pack of gum when Philip trudged back inside. Linnie presented the gift before he pulled her out of earshot of his daughter.

  “Daniel’s in surgery,” he said. “The bone was displaced in the break to his femur. They’re resetting it.”

  She quelled her fear. Philip had enough to worry about without adding her fluctuating emotions to the mix. Daniel was a strong man. He’d pull through the surgery just fine.

  “If you talk to him later, please tell him I was here,” she said. “What about tomorrow?”

  Philip gave a meaningful look. “Only family can visit.” He squeezed her hand. “I told the nurse to add your name to the list.”

  By five o’clock on Sunday afternoon, the last relatives who’d come in for the Mendozas’ anniversary bash checked out of the Wayfair. Housekeeping took over the ballroom, returning tables to storage and cleaning the parquet floor. The staff worked silently, their excitement over last night’s party extinguished by the news of the accident. Even the revelry in Freddie’s suite was more subdued than usual. On the patio behind the Sunshine Room, Linnie caught sight of her brother speaking with Jada. Undoubtedly she was filling him in.

  With many of the rooms now empty, the inn seemed unnaturally quiet. Her energy waning, Linnie plodded to the check-in desk. Tomorrow would see a flurry of new arrivals, vacatio
ners taking advantage of the summer weather and the activities on the lake.

  At eight o’clock Philip called. Daniel was out of post-op and doing well. Relieved, she decided to make it an early night, conking out within minutes.

  Four hours later, a gentle nudge disturbed her dreamless sleep.

  Jada flicked on the lamp. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

  “Go away,” Linnie garbled.

  “The Sirens have invited us to a meeting on the beach. They’re having an initiation, whatever that means. Aren’t you curious?”

  She rolled sideways, squinted at the clock. “Not even a little.” It was past midnight.

  “Don’t be a party pooper.”

  After much cajoling, Linnie dressed. On the veranda, Cat bounced on the balls of her bare feet like a jackrabbit. As the daughter of a Siren, she’d dressed vibrantly for the occasion. She’d chosen the floral top of her favorite bikini paired with a beaded scarf tied sarong-style at the waist. Three necklaces swung from her neck.

  Angling a hip, she asked Jada, “Should we give her coffee before getting her drunk?”

  Jada brushed past. “Your bright ideas never cease to amaze. Who drinks coffee before booze?”

  “Anyone planning to party hearty, that’s who.”

  “Forget the coffee. We’re already late.”

  “Okay, okay.” Cat flipped a hank of wavy hair over her shoulder. “Don’t get pissy with me. I just thought we should wake her up before dousing her with mojitos.”

  “I’m not getting drunk,” Linnie mumbled. She couldn’t see. It dawned on her that opening her eyes might help.

  The warm breeze licked her face. With July’s approach the humidity had risen, the air laden with droplets of moisture. The rolling song of the waters led them down the incline to the lake.

  On the beach votive candles formed a circle around the twenty or so women who’d chosen to attend. The decision would ensure they’d begin the week groggy and perhaps hung over. Each woman resembled a hippie from the 1960s, with a feathered headband and a long scarf tie-dyed in shades of purple and burnt orange. As the leaders of the group, Silvia and Frances had added necklaces to their regalia. The long, roping affairs were decorated with shells, tiny stones, and pretty blue feathers.